The Grandmother Chronicles
by MidnightDawn999
Summary: They never thought they'd see her again. Now she's back. How can they be prepared for someone they'd never known was coming? (Ranskahov fic.)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Well, for any of those who are reading Normal Days, or any of the other things; Yep, some of the writing on my page is completely insane, while other stuff is serious and dark and on occasion rather sad... Well, what happens, happens**!

 **If anyone is crazy(Awesome) enough to be reading this, spaseeba, danke schon! ;) :D God bless.**

Anatoly looked over the plans again as Sergei unfolded them over the hood of a taxi. He spoke in their native tongue; "Move it to here," he pointed. Sergei grunted a response and leaned forward, scribbling something down on the paper where his employer had pointed.

They had spoken face-to-face with Fisk for the first time, not just speaking with 'Wesley'. Anatoly sighed, eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed together tightly.

The sound of a cane against cement echoed through the taxi depot, and an annoyed thought of 'what now' popped into his mind.

At that moment, Vladimir came around the corner-faster than his usual pace-and nearly bowled over Anatoly. "Ona zdes'." (She's here.) His eyes were wide with shock. How had the woman found them? They hadn't told her... it wasn't as though they had actually PLANNED for things like this...

"Shto?" Anatoly backed up, hands already feeling behind him in case someone stood there. Anatoly's frown deepened as if to hide the other emotions. "Vladimir..." Before he voiced his question, he watched her come around the corner.

Vladimir grumbled a curse and pulled Sergei in front of himself, with an order of "stand right there." Sergei obeyed. Vlad shot his brother a looked of something like horror and annoyance as the woman came forward, shuffling her feet and slamming the cane down with every step she took.

Anatoly returned his sibling's look, with one of his own - a more tired, tight expression. He placed his hands on his hips and took a deep breath through his nose before heavily exhaling.

"Vot, pozhaluysta!" The crackly old woman's voice rang through the garage. "Or should I say, here you are... english." she smiled widely. Her top teeth were brilliant white, (clearly false) while the others were uneven and yellow...

Vladimir cringed. "Nyet... Nyet." He pressed one hand over his eyes and groaned quietly. "Nyet..."

"It's filthy in here! You ever clear out sometimes?" she asked.

Anatoly quirked an eyebrow. His posture became tense and rigid as she hugged him, head coming to the height of his elbow. He looked over at Vlad with a facial expression no other human could read. He cringed, waiting for the worst of her hug - and as expected, it came; she pulled back, hands feeling and patting his form as if subconsciously she expected some new physical problem.

Vladimir frowned and pulled the woman off of Anatoly... with the unintended affect of her latching onto him. Family reunions were always awkward, especially if the family was your estranged (and very strange) grandmother, who happened to be the most judgmental woman on earth.

"Vladimir, Anatoly, kak tvoi dela?" (How are you?) their grandmother asked with a broad-scary-grin.

The woman wore cat-eye sunglasses, a flower-pattern dress with shoulder pads, and a blue jacket that had a very distinct scent. Just as Anatoly remembered her; except for the sunglasses, he could only guess where those had come from.

"Shto ty zdes' delayesh'?" (What are you doing here?)

She smiled up at them and removed her sunglasses. "V gostyakh u vnukov!" (Visiting my grandchildren!) She paused and looked over at Vladimir, right as he tried to leave. She latched onto his arm to stop him, only then noticing on of his tattoos. "Vladimir!" she gasped indignantly. The woman shook her head and clicked in in disapproval.

Anatoly managed to step close enough to be between them and break the contact, and efficiently block the tattoos from the woman - or more precisely the grandmother that he had disowned years ago. Of course, that didn't seem to be stopping her.

She huffed and looked up at Anatoly. Her "winning" smile was back. "Gde ya ostanovit'sya?" (Where do I stay?)

Anatoly shifted and briefly looked over at Vladimir, subtly nodding as he bit back irritated comments and decided what to actually say.

Vladimir started to inch away, a bit at a time. He pulled Sergei with him, and ordered the man to distract the woman for a few minutes so Anatoly could get away. They needed to talk about this.

Sergei did just that. First he growled - his own personal speech habit to buy time, like 'um', or 'well'. He started talking to her, in what he thought was a semi-conversational way.

Anatoly slowly moved backwards, hands moving from his hips to fisted tightly by his sides.

Vladimir glanced back, making sure Anatoly was close. He halted and spoke quietly, so as not to be overheard, for once, he spoke English, because their grandmother would have a harder time understanding that. "What do we do with her? SHe expects to stay with us."

"She does," Anatoly spoke, eyes momentarily widening. He stared vacantly at the wall behind Vladimir, "If she expects to," his eyes flickered up and met Vladimir's, but his head didn't follow the movement, "She is going to find a way to stay."

Vladimir growled and his frown deepened. "She can't stay with us. We'll have to find her somewhere else to stay."

"Vladimir-" Anatoly paused, glanced over his shoulder, and leaned closer, putting a hand up between them absently, as though the action was helping to get his point across; "She won't take no for an answer."

"She will have to learn to, then. She can't stay with us here. If Fisk sees her... what would he think?" Vladimir could only imagine Wesley's laughter and mocking if he met their grandmother... then again, he'd only mock for a little while, until she started going after him like a wolf after prey. She had a habit of doing that...

Anatoly sighed and replied with a distant "Da..."


	2. Chapter 2

Anatoly nodded, and backed up, the motel key now in his hand. He shot Vladimir a look before handing it over to the short woman.

Vladimir gave Anatoly the same look, mirrored in his own eyes.

"Pochemu ya dolzhen ostavat'sya zdes'?" (Why should I stay here?)

Vlad's eyes narrowed and he breathed out through his nose, trying not to say something he would regret. (Actually, he never regretted anything) "Prosto byt' blagodarny." (Just be grateful.) Vlad growled.

Their grandmother lifted her chin, tightly gripping the key and giving a sweet-sour smile. "Uvazhayte vy stareyshin," (Respect your elders) She started walking forwards, but turned - and once again spoke in their language as she said, "Are you coming? We have a lot to catch up on."

Vlad snorted and rolled his eyes-very obviously-"Nyet. U menya yest' biznes, chtoby bezhat'." (No, I have a business to run.) He gave his grandmother a wry smile-one that clearly conveyed no real joy-then looked at Anatoly with a look of triumph.

Anatoly looked silently content with Vladimir's reply - though the woman did not look quite so pleased. She insisted, waving her hand in a beckoning gesture. A mirthless smile was on her face, plastered there.

Vlad shook his head. "Nyet." He looked over her at Anatoly. His (non existent) patience was wearing thin.

Anatoly quietly watched them both for a moment, before speaking; "We're leaving."

Vladimir nodded and turned, walking beside his brother. He nearly wanted to run. As a child, he had. Whenever their grandmother came, Vladimir had always found himself running and hiding under things. Now, he was a bit too old to hide under things, and a bit to fearless to bother. Now, he was simply annoyed. "How did she find us?" Vladimir asked-whispering in English now.

Anatoly looked over his shoulder, hands coming to rest on his hips. "I don't know," he replied, breathing deeply in what sounded resigned.

Vladimir nodded. "How do we get rid of her?" The thought of killing her was off the table... she was family after all. But that didn't mean he wanted her around.

"We'll... Figure that out."

 **God bless!**


	3. Chapter 3

Vladimir walked beside Anatoly. The meeting with Fisk had gone... well, it had gone as he'd expected it to. Meetings with business partners never ended "well." They just ended, and you lived, or you died, or they died. Luckily, everyone walked away alive today... So, they'd come back to the garage to conduct business as usual.

Then he heard her-why she was back here, he didn't know. Vlad had specifically told her to stay away while they were working; not to bother them. Clearly, she didn't listen, or she'd forgotten.

"Ulybka!" (Smile) Their grandmother beamed at them as she commanded them to do as she was doing.

Vladimir cringed. He sneered, and it was clear the expression was not even close to a smile. He did not feel like smiling, and Vladimir didn't do anything he didn't feel like doing. With a muttered complaint, he turned and gave Anatoly a look worth a thousand words.

Anatoly returned the look, his own expression more of a grim and mirthless smirk. " _Grandmother,"_ he spoke in their own tongue.

"Vladimir, Anatoly," she began, dragging out their words in a chiding manor, " _That's not smiling_."

Vladimir nodded pointedly. " _It isn't_."

Sergei, Piotr, and several others were all busy trying not to notice the discussion going on between the brothers and their grandmother.

She shook her head disapprovingly, opening her mouth to speak when Anatoly got to it first. " _What are you doing here? Why didn't you stay - at the apartment_." His tone was tired as though reining in annoyance.

Vladimir smirked-not smiled, but smirked. He waited for her to answer.

" _I've got nothing to do there, and this place needs to be cleaned up_!" she stated, adding, " _Don't you ever clean up around here? You have plenty of help_!" she waved her hands around the room at several of the other men.

Anatoly hummed, squinting. Perhaps it would distract her, at least for a while, long enough for them to finish their discussion on the meeting. " _Cleaned, yes. You want to clean?"_

 _"I want you to learn how to clean_!" she patted Anatoly's shoulder, then took one of Vladimir's hands. She smiled up at them and continued speaking. " _But I suppose I shall have to do it myself..."_ She turned. " _Sergei, Piotr, you both are going to help me_."

Vladimir looked over his shoulder at them and shook his head. They had other work to do, and cleaning was not on the list. Piotr caught Vladimir's look and turned to Sergei. They both started different things at the same moment - Piotr using some sort of power tool while Sergei slid under a taxi.

Turning to Vladimir, their grandmother clicked, scoffing and shaking her head. " _Vladimir! You never did learn to be nice._ " She regarded him with an indignant stare.

Anatoly shook his head and rested his hands on his hips, eyebrows knitting. " _We have business to attend to_ ," he informed.

" _So you keep telling me_." She pursed her lips and hitched her purse up on her shoulder.

" _Yes. Now please, go home_ ," Vladimir had said "please." He'd been nice.

" _Fine. But I expect this place to be a bit cleaner next time I come_."


End file.
